


could's and maybe's

by thisisthenoid



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Kinda, Lazy story, Nightmares, ds: hamlet, ive never been good at tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 07:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17618261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthenoid/pseuds/thisisthenoid
Summary: living inside a house again is stressful for all the wrong reasons.





	could's and maybe's

**Author's Note:**

> started: 1/2/2019  
> happy late new years gaymers it's me and after seeping 80+ hours into lethal league blaze i am sad to announce im back on my bullshit  
> my love for wilson has never dwindled. it has in fact grown Stronger.

he'd slept on concrete, stone, grass, ancient tiling, sand, moss, beefalo and snakeskin rugs, floorboards - you name it, he's probably slept on it - yet he was defeated by the walls of a house. really, who woulda funk it. he could sleep out in the open, on the floor, while it rained and snowed and howled, but he couldn't sleep a wink in doors.

 

maybe he wasn't used to being in a house.

 

 _his_ house. that he owned both a contract and a key to.

 

that he'd _paid_ for. with _actual_ money. he still couldn't wrap his head around that development.

 

or maybe it was the fact that the village didn't sell an actual bed to sleep in? no one (and really, he'd looked everywhere) sold mattresses, pillows, covers, anything resembling a bed, but tables and chairs? why, they were all the rage! to be in a house with a straw roll as your only bed. really, that would make anyone sleepless.

 

maybe it was the sound of the pig guards clanking around outside that didn't allow him to sleep. with their shiny, noisy armours, and their irritatingly happy snorts. the glare of their torches cast menacing shadows across the walls of his suffocating room, some shadows looking like newer, uglier versions of Them. it wasn't a fun thing to witness nor think about. he'd considered buying some curtains - he knew getting three windows would be a worse idea than leaving the walls bare.

 

he'd tossed and turned, flipped back to front, thought of all the words he could think of that began with "W" and counted all the sheep he could keep track of, until the white swirls behind his eyelids wouldn't go away and the aches in his limbs persisted with each position he laid in. time seemed to stand still yet drag on all at once, until it became a blurred mess of nothing.

 

he continued to hear unsettling clanks of footsteps outside, and he hated that he couldn't _see_ the source of them. it could have been anything; what if a monster was out there? what if it had snuck past the guards? maybe it had claws. or a maw of powerful teeth, able to chomp through anything. it could down the house in one swing if it so pleased, and then he'd be stuck underneath the rubble; chunks of wooden beams poking out of his bleeding body, buried under a pile of dust and bricks, trapped, babbling useless helps and pleas to unlistening passer-bys, until everything suddenly catches alight in flames, eyes and teeth grinning brightly at him from within the rapidly growing blaze-

 

he wakes with a jolt, body icy with sweat. see's the dim, high ceiling loom above him. the taunting shadows of torches pass by with their menacing smiles. feels the cold of the man(pig?)made floor seep through the straw roll and into his bones. how the walls felt close, far too close for comfort, continuing to close in.

 

it was all off. odd. in some ways, it was wrong and unnatural.

 

maybe he wasn't used to the hustle and bustle of village life yet. it was hard to adjust from one life to another so fast, to learn to trust the comfort a house could bring all over again.

 

but then again, he thought, as he rolled up his tattered straw roll and left the house to find somewhere else to sleep; maybe he couldn't adjust to this side of life again at all. he was too used to the open turf, of seeing everything, without walls in the way - to have that taken away in lieu of a house just didn't sit right with him. especially with all the years he had under his belt of living in the wilderness. buying stuff instead of creating it yourself? food not hunted and cooked by yourself? what was the point in _that_? there was no fun in store bought, and store bought never seemed as good as the worked-for-yourself stuff anyway.

 

maybe he was too far gone the point of acceptable sanity - he had a house, a roof with no patches in it, a table and chair, a nice little hedgehog rug and sunflower wallpaper; he could restart his life with a fresh new outlet, maybe even sell some of his science inventions to the other oddities in the village. have help. make friends. create a new life.

 

but, ah, he'd never been one for the typical village life anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> oh! theres been a name change on the main stuff now - from "thisisporky" to "thisisgermy"! it's not important, but i figured id mention it. it's for the branding n shit yknow


End file.
